


Draco Malfoy and The Slytherin Murders

by Titti



Series: The Office Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Challenge Response, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-09
Updated: 2004-05-09
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12334239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: Ron and Draco must work together to find out who is killing children of Slytherin couples.





	Draco Malfoy and The Slytherin Murders

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the The Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.livejournal.com/community/rwdmfqf/. Challenge Combination: 7. Draco saves Ron's life. (mad_maudlin) and 22. One dreams of the other (or both). (lizabethy)

**PART 1 - Unsung Heroes**

The Beginning

It was all their faults. Dumbledore, Potter, the rest of the Gryffindors. They were to blame for his father's imprisonment. Their position in their world had made sure that Lucius went to Azkaban and stayed there. No amount of money was sufficient to free the head of the Malfoy family. Draco spent the summer debating what to do, and he finally made the decision. He would take his father's place in Voldemort's circle and avenge him.

Approaching the dark wizard hadn't been hard, at all. In fact it had been easier than Draco had thought possible. Lucius' associates approached him only two days after he came home, offering revenge and power: everything Draco wanted. Not only did he eagerly agree to join, but also he promised to bring more followers with him.

On July 14, 1996, Draco kneeled for the first time in front of Lord Voldemort. He was shouldered by Greg and Vincent. Pansy and Blaise were kneeling at the outskirts, one on each side.

"My faithful, we have five young people ready to receive my mark," Voldemort announced.

A smarter man, or a less spoiled one, would have nodded, but with the conviction of always being right, Draco looked up and said, "My Lord, I don't believe that's a wise idea."

Intense pain invaded every fibre of his body. Every nerve, constricting under the weight of the Cruciatus, sent waves of anguish. It stopped as suddenly as it had started, and Draco found himself lying on the floor. A flash of anger crossed in front of his eyes, a storm of emotions followed, but above all there was pride. 

Since his father's arrest, Draco had dreamt of joining the ranks of the Death Eaters, of belonging to a selected elite of wizards who believed in maintaining and raising the status of purebloods. In one tiny moment, the illusion had been shuttered by senseless violence.

No one, not even Lord Voldemort, would hurt a Malfoy and go unpunished. Draco found ironic that July 14 would sign the day of his personal revolution. The day that the plebe in France declared independence was the day he regained his pride as a pureblood. He would not bow in front of anyone, now he needed a way to achieve that. For the moment, he forced himself to concentrate on the present.

Self-preservation made Draco lower his eyes as Voldemort began to speak again. After all, he wasn't stupid enough to take on Voldemort. He would need cunning and strategy, and a good dose of treachery.

"How dare you interrupt me!" Voldemort's voice boomed through the cavernous room. "Explain yourself."

"My Lord," Draco began carefully, while images of Voldemort's body squirming in pain passed in front of his eyes. "I meant that we would not be able to hide the mark in school. While there is nothing that we could learn at Hogwarts that we can't learn under your patronage, we might serve you best by being close to Potter and Dumbledore. Especially now that the Ministry has acknowledged your return."

Voldemort nodded. "You might have a point, Draco. Approaching Potter is becoming tiresome and we also need someone who can speak to the students on a more...friendlier level. Very well, you shall not receive the mark, yet."

You could have listened before casting the Cruciatus, Draco thought, but aloud he simply said, "As you wish, my Lord."

* * *

The Agreement

"You plan to do what?" Pansy hissed. They were the only ones in the carriage, but it never hurt to be careful. "Are you mad? He shall find out and he shall kill you."

Draco shook his head. "He doesn't have a reason to suspect anything. We joined his ranks because we believe in the purity of the wizarding world and because we want to avenge our parents. Nothing has changed."

"Yet, you've concluded that the best way to obtain that is by going to Dumbledore and help Potter," Blaise said sarcastically.

"I've concluded that it can't be achieved by following a Halfblood who uses the Cruciatus because his ego won't let him see past his own fantasy world," Draco said forcefully. "Our parents have been in Azkaban for months and the only thing he can talk about is Potter, and the day he will kill Potter. Well, bugger that." He ignored the sniggers from Vince. "You know what I think, but we have to make this decision together. I dragged you into this in the first place, but this is really dangerous."

"We do what you do," Greg answered immediately. "We've been friends since we were kids. We'll get through this together." 

Draco thanked Greg with a smile. He watched as Vince seconded Greg's opinion before turning to Pansy and Blaise. "What's your position on the matter?" 

Pansy sighed. "I should know better than to listen to you, I really should, but..." She nodded. "I'm with you."

Blaise found four pairs of eyes on him and shrugged. "I followed you to Voldemort, going to Dumbledore can't be much worse."

"What do we do, now?" Vince asked.

"You do nothing," Draco answered immediately. "I will deal with this. If something happens, you can truthfully say that you didn't know what I was doing. Blame it on me."

The four Slytherins nodded their assent before getting off the carriage that had taken them to Hogwarts for the beginning of the school year.

* * *

The Meeting

Albus Dumbledore sat comfortably in his large chair and stared at the Slytherin sitting in front of him. Surprisingly, Draco had not asked that the Head of his House be present and that tickled the headmaster's curiosity.

"You were supposed to report to Mr. Filch, isn't that correct, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked, getting ready for the verbal battle. Regardless of his fame for knowing everything, he would admit, at least to himself, that the Slytherins still bedazzled and confused him. 

"That's correct," Draco answered calmly.

"Is there a reason you did not?" Dumbledore asked when he saw that Draco wouldn't add anything more.

"I needed to speak with you." Draco fixed his school robe as he crossed his ankles and leaned back against the chair, looking completely at ease, although inside he was anything but calm.

"There are other ways that don't require insulting a teacher, losing points and failing to report for detention," Dumbledore pointed out, still waiting for the real reason for this meeting.

"I didn't want anyone to know, not even Professor Snape." Grey eyes were fixed on blue ones, showing a feeling of equality. Draco would not let this Mudblood loving fool intimidate him. "You want help against Voldemort, and I'm willing to help you. I can provide inside information."

Dumbledore sat back; he stippled his fingers, index fingers tucked under his chin. "Why should I trust you? You understand, Mr. Malfoy, that I find strange that you would help us without any benefit for you."

"I'm willing to take a truth serum, and a quid pro quo always makes things smoother. When this is over, and not a moment sooner, you will find a way to get my father out." Draco had thought hard about this, but a free Lucius meant a Lucius at Voldemort's side. "I will not be your friend, I will not be nice to your Gryffindorks. This is strictly a strategic alliance."

Draco stood up. "I'm sure you can find a pretext to see me without raising anyone's suspicions. Don't take too long to make your decision." He walked to the door and stopped with his hand on the door. "I also want 100 points each year for the next two years for Slytherin, and no mirror ones for Gryffindor." It was childish, but he still hated how the Headmaster would rob Slytherin of the House Cup. "I don't care how or to whom, as long as it's not obvious. Have a good night, Headmaster."

* * *

The Kidnapping

Draco was starting to believe that Voldemort was not only a megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur, but also a first class imbecile.

Voldemort had planned an elaborate scheme to kill Potter at the end of the school year, and not before. Draco still wasn't sure why this obsession with the school calendar, except perhaps it went back to Voldemort's childhood insecurities. 

Draco still thought that just sending someone in to kill Potter would have made more sense. If he had wanted to kill someone, he wouldn't have cared about the date or how spectacular it would be.

Voldemort's attempt to lure Potter out of Hogwarts was thwarted when Draco told Dumbledore about the little Hogsmeade's excursion Potter had planned that would have resulted in Potter's capture.

Potter was kept in school, Voldemort's plan went up in smoke, and the Gryffindors lost enough point that the House Cup went to Slytherin.

In this optimistic atmosphere, Draco went home. During the summer, things improved even more, lifting his spirits. His mother doted on him, his friends were around and they had the means to enjoy the finer things in life, and with Potter safely hidden away, Voldemort was quiet.

The return at Hogwarts for his final year was a complete shift from the summer. There was a silent tension that seemed to permeate every stone of the ancient castle. The Ministry was officially investigating Voldemort and his return, but the student body at Hogwarts knew that their school would play a major role in this war.

All eyes were on Harry Potter, teachers and students' alike. His movements were so restricted hat Hogsmeade was a faint memory for the Boy Who Lived. In this climate, everyone was shocked to learn that the victim of Voldemort's new scheme was Ronald Weasley.

* * *

The Death Eaters had been summoned to hear about Voldemort's new plan to kill Potter and take over the wizarding world. Draco and his friends had Portkeyed only to find that the Dark Lord was occupied elsewhere. Being Slytherins to the core, they used the time to find out what was happening.

"Weasley's here," Greg whispered to his friends. "I heard them talking. He's in the dungeon. They're sending proof that he's alive to Hogwarts before killing him." At the different expressions, ranging from shock to surprise, he shrugged. "You'd be surprised what people say when they think you're stupid."

Blaise shook his head, incredulity on his face. "It still amazes me that they haven't all be killed with the security they have around here."

"That's because no one knows where 'here' is," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. "The mark guides the Apparition and we are given a Portkey. No one has a clear idea of where we are."

"I wouldn't be so certain," Draco started. "I reckon Potter will find a way here, alone or with Voldemort's help. Stupid Gryffindor, he'll know it's a trap but he'll still come here and try to save the day."

"We need to do something, before that imbecile shows up here," Vince put in.

"If we do, we can never come back. It's over. We turn our back to everything we've known until now," Pansy offered. They all knew that it would get to this point, but it was coming a lot sooner that they had expected.

"If Potter comes here and gets captured, it's over anyway," Vince whispered, always mindful of the people around them.

"I agree. Dumbledore hasn't done much to find the Weasel, but he shan't manage to control Potter. He never has." Draco might have agreed to work with Dumbledore, but he still didn't trust, like or believe in the man and his capabilities.

"Then, why are we wasting time? Let's find Weasley and go," Blaise said. If they had to betray Voldemort, they should at least have the humility and intelligence to work quickly and leave.

Pansy hummed in agreement. "We'll Portkey back, but when we get to the gates we have to be careful. We need to reach the castle without anyone noticing us and before anyone finds out that we took him."

The other Slytherins nodded. They were all aware of what would happen if the Death Eaters found out about their betrayal before they reached Hogwarts.

"We'll move quickly. I'll put Weasley on my broom. We fly in formation and we go straight to Dumbledore's office." Draco's mind was already on the details that could make the difference between success and failure. "Pansy, you'll take the front, cast an invisibility spell. Greg, you'll take the rear. Vince, Blaise, sides. We only have to go from the gates to the castle and we have the element of surprise. Hopefully, there won't be anyone chasing us. Any questions?"

"Why are we still standing here?" Greg asked with a smirk. "Let's get the Weasel."

* * *

Greg led the way through the old mansion. Surprisingly, there wasn't much security, but as Pansy had pointed out, no one knew the location of the house. Besides, only Potter would be foolish enough to walk into a house full of Death Eaters and a Dark Lord.

As they continued their journey, they had a few close calls, but nooks in the walls and the darkness of the house came to their advantage. Snapshots of conversations confirmed that Weasley was indeed in the house and the dungeon.

The dungeon was not unlike Hogwarts' very own: a series of rooms where the sun never shone, cold stones protecting dark secrets. The doors were identical, looking very innocuous.

"Which one?" Vince asked as he watched Pansy wave her wand.

"Only two are locked and warded," she answered. "One to keep people out and one to keep people in. That one," she ended, pointing to one of the doors.

Draco checked the door and chanted an incantation. "My father used the same spell to keep me in my room," he offered in way of explanation. "He had to get more creative by the time I was twelve."

"Enough chit chat," Blaise, always the practical one, said. "Let's get in, rescue Weasley and Portkey out."

The five opened the door and went in carefully, but the room was empty save for Weasley's battered body on the floor. Draco kneeled near the Gryffindor and checked his breathing. He heard Greg say 'Cruciatus' and he nodded, although they all knew the effects of the Unforgivable. "Pansy, the Portkey."

The other four kneeled around Ron. They all closed their hands over the potion phial. Draco joined his fingers with Ron's and laid their joined hands on the glass container. When he nodded, Pansy said 'Slytherin' and they suddenly appeared in front of the Hogwarts' gates.

They fought the sickness that always followed travelling by Portkey, and immediately reached for their hidden brooms. As planned, they flew through the grounds and went directly to the Headmaster's office.

The room was filled with people. Draco recognized most of them, could guess on the identity of the others. He wasn't surprising to see so many redheads. They were probably here to convince Dumbledore to do something.

The room went silent as Draco lowered the tortured body on the couch, next to where Potter and Dumbledore were arguing. "We've done our job," he said, looking pointedly at the Headmaster. Then, he looked at Potter. "Now, you do yours."

They walked away, never looking back. They never discussed rescuing Weasley with each other or with the Gryffindors; neither did they speak of how their lives were in danger outside of the school, but they were all aware of that. Now, they had to rely on Potter to kill Voldemort and on Dumbledore to free their parents when the time came. Fortunately, the Gryffindors were as honourable as they claimed, and the Slytherins weren't disappointed.

* * *

**PART 2 - We Can't Run Away From Our Past**

The Magical Prosecution Service (MPS) was created after the demise of Voldemort in June of 1998. It was part of the Department of Magical Enforcement, however the Magical Prosecutors were independently hired with long-term contracts, and the politicians had no direct control over the Service.

The office wasn't created without a fuss. Most of the people in power wanted to retain said power, but the links between the Death Eaters and the Ministry of Magic combined with the political influence exerted on the trials convinced the British wizarding world that an independent office was needed. Dumbledore's favourable opinion on the matter didn't hurt.

One of the first people to join was one Draco Malfoy. Everyone gossiped; most thought he wouldn't last a day, let alone a week. After five years, the Malfoy heir was the prosecutor with the most experience, the most seniority and the most fame in the Service. He was also the one and only Slytherin who had ever joined the MPS.

Draco walked through the bright offices of the MPS. He still couldn't understand the necessity of having perpetual sunshine in an underground building. Not for the first time, he regretted the shadows of the dungeon at Hogwarts. Checking his robes, because Draco Malfoy was always impeccably dressed, he knocked on the office of the Chief Prosecutor.

"Malfoy, come in." Robert Tibbot's voice came through the closed door. The Chief, a former Ravenclaw, was a slim man, with short, well kept brown hair. He wore a robe as well and had made a point that his employees wore magical garbs, unless going into the Muggle word.

"Did you want to see me, Chief?" Draco stepped in. He knew very well that there was an important reason for this meeting; there were rumours about a new and important case, and yet no one knew what this case was.

"Sit down." Tibbot pushed a parchment over the desk and stopped right at the edge, in front of Draco. "I've reassigned all of your cases. You will be working on this alone."

With a frown, Draco unfolded the parchment. As he read the information, the frown only got deeper. "I didn't know the Aurors had a suspect in custody."

"They don't," Tibbot said curtly. 

"Let me see if I understand this correctly," Draco started, leaning back against the highback chair. "You want me to stop working on current trials so that I can devote myself to a non-existent case." He nodded slowly. "That makes perfect sense, Chief."

"Mind the attitude, Malfoy. You will work on this case. In fact, you will work with the Aurors to make sure that when they do arrest the person who is doing this, there will be no question over procedures."

Draco sniggered. "Who is putting pressure on us? I didn't think that the murders of three Slytherin children would have bothered anyone?"

Tibbot became serious. He knew the young man sitting in front of him well enough to know that Draco understood the legal part of their work, as well as the allegedly nonexistent political pressure. "People within the Department of Law Enforcement are worried. It is important that when these cases become known to the general public, the Ministry doesn't appear soft on this murderer because the victims were related to Death Eaters."

Shaking his head, Draco stood up and began to pace. "Death Eaters? The oldest was six. I know these people, I know they weren't involved, I know..." He stopped and faced his boss. "That's it, isn't it? The Aurors don't have any Slytherins in their ranks, and the families won't talk to them."

Tibbot sighed. "That's part of it. There is a fear that they are looking for a more, shall we say, private form of justice." The Chief leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "Look, we both know that you can technically refuse, but do you want to? You're the best, why use your skills for a violation of Apparition laws when you have the possibility of avenging three innocent children, maybe prevent the death of other young lads?"

"Because it's not my job. What do I know about conducting an investigation?" Yet as he asked the question, he knew that no one in the Department of Magical Enforcement could do as good a job as he.

Draco knew all the families involved, if not the parents of the murdered children. He would be accepted by them and he would be able to gather the information that the Aurors failed to obtain. Most importantly, he wanted to see the person responsible for all this pay.

The inner struggle wasn't lost by Chief Tibbot. He knew most people thought of Draco Malfoy as a cold person, only interested in his name and his money, but he had watched the young man became passionate about the important issues, and the biases in the wizarding world. He has also learned that Draco had a sharp mind, good instincts and the savoir-faire to get the job done.

"You will work with an Auror. He's the only one who has been on the crime scene for all three murders. He's young, but I was assured by his boss that he's extremely good at what he does," Tibbot informed Draco. "I believe you know him."

"Not Potter?" Draco's eyes almost popped out and his cultivated detachment disappeared at the thought of working with the man he still despised even after all these years.

"No, not Potter," Tibbot answered. "Weasley, Ronald Weasley."

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me! I will not work for Draco bloody Malfoy!" Ron Weasley screamed at the top of his lungs. Even the closed door of his boss' office didn't dim the sound and the Aurors in the outer office sniggered at Ron's more colourful expressions. The sounds ended when a blond man marched through their office as if he owned it.

Draco heard 'Sit down, Weasley', before he knocked on the door and went in after he heard a strong 'enter'. "Mr. Shacklebolt, Weasley," he said with a nod of his head.

"Mr. Malfoy, it's a pleasure." Kingsley Shacklebolt stood up to shake the prosecutor's hand. He gestured toward the chair next to the redhead. "I hope the file we sent you was sufficiently clear."

"Considering how little information there was, I doubt even Weasley could mess it up," Draco replied with a pleasant, yet fake, smile on his face.

"See, I told you we can't work together. We hate each other. Our fathers hate each other. Our ancestors are probably fighting, wherever they are," Ron said, barely containing his ire. "Why can't you get someone else?"

"Because you were the first Auror to arrive on all three murder scenes," Shacklebolt said, and from his tone Draco surmised that this was not the first time that he had explained such a fact.

Sitting back, looking completely relaxed, Draco looked slyly to his former schoolmate. "Why do you think you were the first one? Chance? Luck?" He shook his head, his eyes focuses on his former rival. "No, you were there first, because the rest of your colleagues heard about a crime in a Slytherin home and they ignored it."

"They wouldn't," Ron answered indignant. "Those were just children-"

"Right," Draco, said, cutting him off, "but when the Aurors got called, they didn't know that children had been killed. They thought it was some problem between Slytherins. Admit it, it's what every wizard thinks, starting from the moment he's sorted at Hogwarts." 

Draco stared at Ron, daring him to deny it, but when the Gryffindor lowered his eyes, a small smile of satisfaction appeared on his face, a smile that evaporated just as quickly. "Face it, Weasley, none of your 'loving' colleagues are interested in these cases, so it's up to you."

"What makes you think that I'll care?" Ron asked stubbornly, not even sure why he was putting in doubt his commitment to his job. Maybe he did know the reason; he'd do anything to annoy Malfoy.

Calmly, with detached objectivity, Draco answered, "Because I've seen you fight at Potter's side when you should have been in the infirmary. Because you've done the right thing even when it wasn't the smart thing. Because I know that you're an honourable man."

With those simple and honest words, Draco took the fight out of Ron. "All right, we'll work together," the redhead conceded.

* * *

"You want me to do what?" Ron asked, rather loudly, as soon as they left Shacklebolt's office.

"I want you to get your things and move into the MPS offices," Draco repeated in a matter of fact tone. He looked over the large room, cubicles dividing it to accommodate all the Aurors. "One, you work for me. Two, I trust this room and the people in it as much as I trust a nest of Death Eaters. Three, you get your own office instead of a cubicle. I don't see what your problem is."

The old urge to retort was strong, but five years filled with compromises helped rein Ron's temper. Logically, he knew that Malfoy was making sense, but it felt like betraying his colleagues. In the end, he gave in. "All right, but only because we have more room to work."

Draco nodded. He'd learned to work with Gryffindors. If silly justifications helped them do what was necessary, Draco would happily go along, especially when it got him what he wanted.

It didn't take long to move the meagre personal belongings that Ron kept in his cubicle to his new, much larger office, an office that was right next to Malfoy's, but again Ron thought that it would be more efficient that way. He put his things away, and went into Malfoy's office. "So, what do we do?"

"Well, well, at least you're willing to take orders," Draco replied with an amused smile. "Don't get your knickers in a twist," he continued the moment Weasley opened his mouth. "I read the reports and there is really nothing from the family. What happened?"

Ron became all business as he sat opposite of Draco. "They wouldn't talk to us. They were barely civil. Actually they were downright rude, and wouldn't answer any questions. I wanted to take them here and questioned them, but the higher-ups thought that it wouldn't be politically correct to interrogate the parents of murdered children." 

Draco scrutinized the other man, his eyes travelling up and down Weasley's attire. "It will have to do." Standing up, he checked his immaculate robe. "Shall we?"

"Where are we going?" Ron asked.

"Into Slytherin territory, Weasley."

* * *

"Draco, what are you doing here?" Pansy hugged her former housemate. "We were expecting Aurors." 

"You do get Weasley, if it counts," Draco answered in his usual bored tone, but kept a strong hold on the woman. "Are you all right?"

Pansy stepped back and nodded. For the first time, she acknowledged Ron who was standing a few steps behind Draco. "I can't say the same about Lorelei. She won't talk to anyone, she doesn't eat, she doesn't cry; she sits there, looking at the baby's bed."

"How do you know Mrs. Milton?" asked Ron.

Draco's head snapped as he turned to look at the Auror. "Is this how the Aurors conduct all of their investigations? Pansy is Lorelei's cousin."

"I told you they wouldn't talk to us," Ron answered through gritted teeth.

"Maybe if it hadn't taken your 'wonderful' office twenty minutes to arrive, people wouldn't have mistrusted you as much, Weasel," Pansy answered with venom. "A girl, a five year old girl, died, and it took twenty minutes for an Auror to Apparate here. Muggles could have gotten here faster."

Draco looked back at Weasley, before turning to Pansy. "It doesn't matter, Pansy. Even if they had arrived earlier, she would have still been dead," he said, appealing to her Slytherin, rational side. "And you." He glared at Ron. "Did you bother checking the ministry registry for relatives?" 

"You don't really think it was a family member who killed Angelica, do you?" Pansy asked, annoyed.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No, of course not, Pansy, but I would think that the Ministry trained the Aurors better." 

"That assuages all my concerns. Thank you very much," Pansy replied sarcastically.

"No, but the fact that I'm in charge should," Draco rebutted pointedly. "I need to speak to Lorelei and her husband. There might be something that they have remembered since the Aurors were here, anything, no matter how small might help us get this bastard."

Pansy shook her head. "Lorelei is in no condition to talk to anyone. She sits in her rocking chair looking at her daughter's bed all day long. There is no reason to speak to Randolph. He doesn't know anything, except..." She looked between the two men. "Just wait here."

She returned moments later and handed Draco a scroll. "We found it in Angelica's bedroom. We tried revealing spells, handwriting, Dark Arts, the whole gamut. Whoever it is, he's very knowledgeable because there is no trace of his identity, either in the parchment or the room, itself. I know because I checked personally."

Draco opened the scroll. The handwriting had no identifying traits, probably thanks to a spell. There would probably layers of magic, and if they were lucky, they could find something. Although knowing Pansy's skills, it was most likely that this person was truly knowledgeable. Still, it didn't hurt to double check.

Ron walked behind Draco and looked over the Slytherin's shoulder. The message sounded very rational and calm, and that scared the trained Auror in him, while angered the passionate side of his personality. His eyes scanned once more the short message.

_The Wizarding world has suffered many deaths because of Dark wizards, because of Slytherins. To give our world and our children a safer tomorrow, we must eradicate them from this earth. I shall attempt to do my part starting with the newer generations._

_A concerned Wizard_

As Ron read and reread the message, his anger increased until he could not stay quiet. "Why didn't you tell us?" he accused the witch.

"Would it have made a difference?" she countered, resignation obvious in her voice. "Most people would applaud, some would help. We thought that we would all be safer if this message weren't to become public knowledge."

"You're probably right, Pansy, but it won't become public. Weasley and I will not say a word." He put a hand on her arm. "I will find him, Pansy."

"Just give us a name, Draco, and the Ministry will never have to waste money on a trial," Pansy said with venom in her voice.

"I'll pretend that you never said that." Draco squeezed her arm. "Don't do anything stupid. Leave it to us to take care of this."

Pansy nodded without really agreeing. She watched as the two men walked toward the door before stopping them. "Talk to Millie and Marcus," she said softly, her arms closed around her in self-defence from this anonymous threat. "She's a second cousin to Peter, the father of the little boy that was killed two days ago. Marcus was Elizabeth's godfather. Both got similar parchments." She didn't bother waiting for them, instead she walked out the other door and went to Lorelei's side.

* * *

After collecting the other two scrolls, Ron and Draco went back to the MPS offices. Draco magicked his desk clean and unrolled the three parchments. He began to walk around his desk.

"Are you going to stare at them until they tell you who the murderer is?" Ron asked sarcastically.

Draco ignored the mocking tone; instead, he continued his pacing. Suddenly he stopped, and in a quiet tone, he asked, "You're the Auror, here. When you read them, what do you see?"

Standing next to Draco, he took a closer look at the scrolls. Without notice, Ron adopted the same pensive tone Draco was using. "They are cold, but there is anger behind the words."

Draco nodded. "He pretends to be objective, but he really wants revenge."

Ron looked at Draco with the corner of his eyes. Being an Auror, he knew what the role of the MPS was, but he never thought their inference skills to be so good; then again, he shouldn't have been surprised since Draco had never been stupid. "I'd say Muggleborn." 

"Right, too many references to the Wizarding world." It was one of the first things that had struck him. A pureblood considered their world as 'the' world, the other being the Muggle world. "Knowledgeable."

"There wouldn't be too many Muggleborns in Ravenclaw," Ron remarked.

For the first time, Draco took his eyes off of the parchments and stared at Ron. "No, but knowledgeable doesn't mean that he was in Ravenclaw. You should know that; you had one of the brightest Muggleborns in Gryffindor. Of course, even she's not perfect. She married a Weasley, just not you," he said with a smile.

"You should have stopped when you were ahead," Ron answered angrily, but then anger was more a natural reaction around Malfoy. He'd come to terms with the fact that he and Hermione would never be together. It had become very clear when he could only achieve an orgasm when thinking of other boys. Of course, he had never dreamt that his best friend would marry his brother. People still shook their head when they saw the bright witch walking around with Fred, prankster extraordinaire. 

"However, you're right. He didn't have to be in Ravenclaw." Ron finally conceded. "What about age? And why these families? Do they have any meaning to you? Any special role in the Slytherin hierarchy?" A hierarchy that remained a mystery to Ron, but one that was nevertheless there.

"I'm not sure. At first, I thought that it was someone from our parents' generation, maybe older since the parents of these three children had no direct connections to the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Their only connection is through their parents." Draco stepped back a little, involuntarily moving closer to the Gryffindor. 

Draco froze when he felt the heat from Ron's body. He forced himself to relax, but didn't move away. He concentrated on the parchments again, looking straight ahead. "Gut instinct tells me it's someone younger, our age, maybe slightly older."

Leaning toward Draco, Ron said, "I didn't think Slytherins used gut instinct. I thought you planned and schemed."

When Draco turned, their faces were centimetres apart. The Slytherin's eyes dropped to Ron's lips, before looking up again. Draco ignored the heat rising in his body, classifying it as a normal reaction of a young man who hadn't had sex in a few months. It could not possibly have anything to do with Weasley. Draco blinked, fighting the natural reactions of his body. "There is a lot you don't know about the Slytherins," he finally said, remembering all the insults received from this man and his friends.

Stepping away, he sat behind his desk. "Go home, Weasley. It's late and tomorrow, we have a lot of work to do."

Ron nodded toward the scroll. "Are you going to leave those here? The wards around this place are a joke. We broke in when we were in our Fifth year. One would think that they would have improved them," he said sarcastically.

"No one gets into this office. Beside the standard wards, I had Father suggest a few powerful, albeit legal, wards, Severus added his own and I put my personal touch." Draco smirked. "If someone can get through these wards, he deserves to get in."

"Only you, Malfoy." Ron shook his head. "Fine, I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

"Good night." Draco watched Weasley go. He ordered food from the house-elves, and after they left, he modified his wards and began to work.

* * *

Ron walked cautiously into Malfoy's office. He had knocked, but had gotten no answer. He was about to leave when his hand had rested over the door, which opened for him. He looked around, not trusting a Slytherin, and a Malfoy to boot. 

The office was dark, all the magic lights dimmed. Casting the Lumos spell, he noticed the blond man sleeping on the couch. Walking close, Ron picked up the notes sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. The neat and angular handwriting annotated all the spells that Draco had performed on the parchments. No wonder the man was dead to the world. It must have taken most of the night and a lot of energy to perform all of those spells.

"What are you doing, Weasley?" 

Draco's unexpected remark made Ron jump. "Sorry." Did he just apologize to Malfoy? He wasn't sure who was most surprised, but he continued. "The door opened by itself. If this is your security..."

"Calm down." Draco sat up, sighing. He ran his fingers through his tangled long hair. "I modified the wards last night so you can gain access. It was that or in case of need, have your Muggleborn sister-in-law helping you gain access to my office. This way, you can always come in." He raised his eyes. "It was the logical thing to do."

"Was it logical to do all these spells? One, I'm sure that Parkinson cast them already. Two, you need to sleep. Three, you look like shit, and you never look bad." Ron stopped suddenly. Had he really said that? Oh Merlin and Morgana, kill him now, he thought.

Fortunately for him, Draco ignored what he had said. "What happens if we need these in a trial? Well, yes, Madam, we failed to do the proper testing, but you see, my friend did them. No, Madam, she does not work for the Department of Magical Enforcement. No, she went to school with me. That would be brilliant."

Ron cracked a smile. "All right, we need to cast the spells, but you didn't have to do it all yourself. I'm working on this case too. Unless you don't trust me."

Draco raised his eyes. "Weasley, you should know better than that. I'm a Malfoy; I don't trust anyone." Getting up, he patted Ron's shoulder. "You still get to finish the spells on the last parchment. I'm going home to get cleaned up and change my clothes. I'll be back soon."

* * *

Ron raised his eyes when he heard a noise, only to see the blond Slytherin waltz in, looking as good as new. Everything in less than thirty minutes. Ron shook his head; he needed at least that much time to wake up in the morning.

"I'm not done," Ron said defensively as Malfoy sat next to him. 

"Did I ask you?" Draco asked, smirking. He leaned back and watched as Weasley went through the list of spells. He was too tired to make negative comments, not that Weasley was doing anything wrong, but that would have not stopped Draco on a normal day. 

"Why aren't you and Parkinson engaged or something?" Ron asked in between spells.

There was a brief silence and Draco looked at Weasley with a raised eyebrow. The expression changed into amusement, when he heard the question.

"What? It's a logical question. You and Parkinson were always together. We all thought that you'd get married. I was curious why you weren't together," Ron answered, his temper flaring for no reason.

"Yes, since we are such good friends, I can see why you felt that it was completely proper to inquire about my private life," Draco drawled out. "But to answer your question, we were never in love with each other."

Ron snorted. "Please, you were inseparable."

"That was school. We were doing what we thought it was expected of us, and we were and still are close friends, but Pansy is happy with Greg and they'll soon marry. As for me, I wasn't interested in marrying her. Now, do go on with the spells." Draco closed his eyes mostly listening to the words when he heard a ring. "What's that?" he asked suddenly sitting up.

"Mobile," Ron replied as he answered the phone. After a few grunts, he closed the phone. "There has been another murder." His gaze slowly settled on Draco. "They just got word downstairs and thought it would be best if I went."

Draco nodded. "Let's go. We might as well do this right, for once."

* * *

Another house, not much different from the three Ron had visited before. They were nothing like Sirius's house on Grimmauld Place nor did they resemble the Burrow. No, these were normal homes belonging to young couples.

Their first stop was the child's bedroom. Andrew, the murdered four years old, had been found dead by his father that morning. Ron started to inspect the room, its wards, signs of Dark magic, but he knew that it would be useless. However, he did his job well, and thoroughly.

He was surprised when Malfoy stayed and helped, willingly taking directions from Ron. They worked most of the day, breaking twice, mostly because house-elves popped in with food. At a certain point during the evening, Draco left the room, but Ron never noticed.

When he was done with his task, he went in search of his 'boss', although Draco hadn't really done much ordering around, unless one counted his insistence that they work in MPS territory.

A house-elf directed Ron to the library. When he got there, he stopped in front of the door that was ajar. Draco was speaking with Adrian Pucey, a man who had left school to become a player for the Cannons. It wasn't awe that kept Ron from going in, but the intimacy and tension in the room.

He couldn't hear what they were saying, but watched as Malfoy brought a hand to Adrian's face. The other man grabbed Draco's wrist before any contact was made. The older man was angry, spitting out words at a fast pace. Draco looked almost resigned, eyes lowered, nodding gently.

Before they could spot him, Ron knocked on the door. He watched the two men jump apart as he came in. "If you're done, we can go," Ron said impassibly.

"What about the room?" Draco asked with a frown. This was the first time he was on a crime scene, but it felt strange leaving that room unguarded.

Ron got annoyed at the question, but then realized it was prompted by professional curiosity. "I finished the first sweep. There is nothing. There is a second team, doing another, more in-depth sweep. The Mediwitch had taken care of the body-."

"Taken care of Andrew. He's not a body," Adrian said angrily. "He's just a little boy, not a thing."

Ron lowered his eyes before looking back at the grieving man. "I'm truly sorry for your loss, and I didn't mean to insult you or your family." Then, his eyes went to the blond man. "Malfoy?"

Draco nodded. "Adrian, please offer my condolences to your wife. Good bye." 

"I shall. Good bye, Draco."

Ron waited for Draco to pass before him, a strange sense of protection prompting the decision. When they reached Draco's office, he watched the Slytherin fall down on the couch.

"Are you all right?" Ron asked worried.

"You know, through the years I've talked about dead men, about killing people, wanting them dead. I've learned about the death of friends or their parents. I've prosecuted murderers." Draco's grey eyes were fixed on Ron's. "I've never seen a dead person until today. That boy... he was so still, so blue." 

Draco got up suddenly, but before he could reach the carafe with the firewhiskey, he felt Ron's powerful body pressed against his. A hand covered his wrist, much like Adrian's had done, but without the intension of hurting. It was almost comforting.

"It's always difficult, but the first time is the worst, especially when it's a child, the son of a friend," Ron whispered in Draco's ear.

Draco laughed sadly. "Remember when I told you that I wasn't in love with Pansy?" He felt more than saw Ron nod. "I met Adrian again after our fifth year. We started dating soon. Everything was fine until..." He closed his eyes and leaned back into the warm body. "He had the mark and when I..."

"When you saved my life, he left you," Ron murmured.

Draco nodded. "Few months later, I learned of his engagement, then the wedding, and ten months later, a boy. He was very quick to forget me, or maybe he wanted to distance himself from the traitor. Who knows?"

Ron took hold of Draco's shoulders and spun him around. "You weren't a traitor."

"I know. If I hadn't done it, Voldemort might be in power now, still..." It would have been much easier if he truly had no emotions, like people implied, but nothing in his spoiled life had prepared him for the sight of the dead boy. "Still it makes no difference. A child is dead because of who he is, who his parents are, because he's a Slytherin."

"A child is dead because of a maniac. This... this murderer is no better than Voldemort. In fact, he's worse because he only targets innocent children," Ron countered.

Draco laughed sarcastically. "You're so naïve, Weasley. That's not how the world sees it. No one cares when the Slytherins are the victims," he said angrily.

"No one cares?" Ron spat out. He pushed Malfoy against the trolley. Some glasses fell and shattered. Neither man paid attention to the broken crystal. Their pants rang loud in the room and when Ron spoke, it echoed like a whisper in an ancient castle. "I bloody care. I'm here day and night trying to sodding find this bastard. Don't you tell me no one cares, because it's a lie." 

Before Draco could protest, Ron crashed his lips against the other man's. The violent contact triggered repressed needs, physical desire that had little to do with love, frustration and anger. There was nothing tender about the kiss; teeth clunk against each other, pulled and scraped sensitive skin.

Ron's frantic hands went to Draco's robe, fighting to disrobe Draco. "Bloody buttons," he muttered.

Before he could say more, Draco cast a spell to open them. The Slytherin let his robe slide down and pool at his feet, leaving him in his silk boxers. "Obfusco! We wouldn't want people to see us," he said in explanation, words spaced between heavy breathing. 

Ron looked at the glass windows and nodded, but it was more a reaction, because he wasn't paying attention to the now darkened glass, but his eyes and focus on the perfect body in front of him. Pale like the moonlight, strong and lithe like a panther, Draco was perfect. Ron pushed the other man against the wall, the kiss scorching, his hands busy in pushing those boxers down.

"Muggle clothes," Draco complained, as he fought with belts and tight pants, pushing them down over the bulge straining against the denim.

"They are just fine, Malfoy." Ron barely pushed them to his mid-thigh. He bit Draco's ear before licking it. "Turn around," he whispered, dangerously low.

A spark of anger passed Draco's eyes, but it was short lived, as the Slytherin turned to face the wall. "You know how to cast a spell, or should I take care of that myself?" he asked with a tone that reminded Ron of professor Snape.

Ron tried to put the image out of his mind while he quickly performed a lubrication spell. "Happy now?" he snapped back, his cock already nestled between Draco's arse cheeks. He drove in, knowing that the spell would prevent Malfoy from getting hurt. 

With the first push, Draco was slammed against the wall. He laid his hands flat against the wall, and used the purchase to push back, meeting thrust with thrust. He could feel the heavy denim scratch against his legs, the soft flannel hit his back; he could smell the heavy musk of aftershave and sex, but they exchanged no words. Only grunts and moans echoed in the dark room, broken by their sobs as they tumbled toward their orgasm.

"Get off." Draco was the first to speak, waiting long enough to find his snotty Malfoy tone.

"Right. Always so polite, Malfoy." Ron rolled his eyes, but performed a cleaning spell before transfiguring the couch, rendering it a little bigger. "Let's get some rest."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me? This wasn't an invitation for some touchy, loving romance."

Ron snorted. "You forget that I know you, Malfoy. I was merely suggesting that we take a nap before going over the parchment. You do want to study it, do you not?"

"Fine!" Draco accioed a blanket and a pillow from his cupboard. It wasn't the first time that he spent his nights in the office, but he never shared the office or his couch with someone else, especially with a Gryffindor.

Ron stripped and settled on the couch. "Stop thinking, Malfoy. I swear on my honour as a Gryffindor that I shan't try to murder you while you sleep."

"Are you certain you trust me to do the same?" Draco asked with a smirk that was short lived. In fact, the moment he lay on the couch, he felt a strong arm pull him close before the blanket covered their naked bodies. However, he forced himself to relax, and with the teasing obvious in his voice, he said, "Sleep tight, and don't let the Boggarts bite."

Ron sniggered. "I'm more concerned about the snake in my arms."

"Good to know that you're not a complete idiot." Draco smiled as they shifted, their legs becoming a tangled mess.

"Oh my, was that a compliment, Malfoy? I'm honoured." Ron bit Draco's ear. "Now, shut your bloody trap and let's get some rest." Contrary to his words, he didn't fall asleep quickly. He waited until he felt Malfoy relax in his arms. The man might have been his sworn enemy in school, but Ron still remembered the day he saw his first corpse and how it felt. He hoped that Malfoy wouldn't have nightmares, if Slytherins were capable of having bad dreams.

* * *

The room was still dark, but Ron felt refreshed. He opened his eyes slowly, his brain still heavy with sleep. Sometime during the night, they had shifted positions and he had Malfoy's head resting on his chest. The Slytherin's leg brushed against his morning erection. But was it morning?

Ron shifted enough so he could see his watch. "Bugger! Malfoy, wake up it's almost 8:00am."

"Why are you yelling? I'm right here," Draco complained, before snuggling closer to the warm body next to him. It had been a while since he'd slept with someone, and he was too incoherent to pinpoint whom that someone was.

Ron fought a smile. So Mr. Draco I'm Always Impeccably Groomed Malfoy was not a morning person. "We need to get up before someone decides to come into your office, and we have a parchment to analyse."

That had Draco's full attention. He sat up, rolling his neck. "Fuck, I hate sleeping on a couch."

"Sweet Merlin, you're human," Ron exclaimed. "It's the first natural reaction I've seen and I've known you since we were eleven."

Draco shrugged. "I've just been taught proper behaviour. It doesn't mean I'm not human." He got up and accioed his pants and robe. "Put the pillow and blanket away and we can call the house-elves for breakfast." 

Deciding that an answer, any answer would have led to a discussion, which they couldn't afford at the moment, Ron did as he was told. "Why is it always dark in this room? Can't you regulate the lights with the time of day?"

Draco sent off the house-elf with his usual sneer before answering. "I don't know. After seven years in the dungeons, the dark helps me think, I guess. The sunlight also bothers my eyes."

Ron nodded. He understood the last part all too well. With his hazel eyes, the sun could be a big nuisance. "Maybe you could make it just a bit lighter so we can look at the scroll." Talking about work also helped refocus their attention on something other than the fact that they had sex. Malfoy seemed perfectly happy with that plan, because he never mentioned waking up naked, in each other's arms.

With a wave of his wand, the room became lighter. Draco sat on the couch, which was back to its natural dimension. A house-elf popped in and left food on the trolley before disappearing, ignored by the owner of the office. "Ready for a few hours of useless work?"

Ron sat next to Malfoy, scroll on the coffee table. He passed some food to Draco while they looked at the writing. "He's angry. Look, he's getting more and more specific in his notes. He wants the world to know why he's killing."

Draco chewed slowly, mulling over Ron's words. "Yes, but the world doesn't even know there have been killings."

Ron nodded. "Yes, exactly. Do you get the impression that he doesn't understand why there has been no mention in the papers? He mentioned the Daily Prophet twice."

Draco shook his head. "As if we needed more proof that he's a Muggleborn. Really, does he expect the Ministry to inform the press? That's ludicrous, and no Slytherin family would report that."

"And in the absence of signs of Dark Arts, the press wouldn't know about it," Ron finished. "The problem is that he doesn't know that. He's getting angrier, and that could lead to more killings."

He turned slightly so he could look at Draco. Ron could see the frown on the Slytherin's face. They were probably thinking the same thing, but Ron voiced his concern first. "What do we do? If we tell the public, there shall be panic, and the high-ups will roast us alive. If we don't, more children will die."

Draco's eyes settled on Ron. "I think I have an idea. Could you start casting the usual detecting spell?"

When Ron nodded, Draco's frown deepened. "That's it? You're agreeing without knowing what I'm going to do."

Ron smiled. "Malfoy, you should know better than that. I'm a Weasley; I trust my friends." He patted Draco's back, much like the Slytherin had done only a day earlier. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it." His smile got even bigger as he watched Draco leave, confusion even more apparent on the Slytherin's face, but as soon as Draco disappeared from his line of view, he started working on the parchment.

* * *

"Here, I hope this fits." Draco stood in front of Ron, who was still on the couch, bent on the scroll. "Oh, do stand up and take those horrible Muggle clothes off," the Slytherin said impatiently, but soon his eyes went to the parchment. "Nothing?"

Ron shook his head and sighed. "Nothing." He stood up and took the proffered robe. "Why am I wearing this?" he asked, too tired to formulate some scathing answer.

"We have to attend a meeting, one with every able bodied Slytherin in England, the rest will be able to watch through spells." Draco took Ron's shirt and laid it on the couch. One of the house-elves would take care of it later. "You remember that you need to take your trousers off, do you not?" With practice, he began to close row after row of buttons on Ron's robe, before smoothing the deep green velvet with his hands. "There! You look passable now."

Ron stepped out of the trousers that had pooled at his ankles. "I'm working, not going to a social affair. Where is this meeting?"

"Malfoy manor, of course. My father is still cursing the fact that a Gryffindor is setting foot in the house on his own free will, but ignore him and he'll stop." Draco thought about that for a moment. "Or maybe not, but he really has no choice. Shall we go?"

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't understand you, Malfoy. One moment, you're a normal bloke, discussing work, the next you're a social butterfly, your manners change, your vocabulary changes, and your attitude certainly changes and not for the better."

Draco stopped, his hand still on the doorknob. "That's very perceptive of you, Weasley. I thought Granger was the one with the power of observation, but you are right. These are roles, and we're about to play a very important one. We have to convince these people to close ranks and protect the Slytherin children without killing every Muggleborn who gets near them. I am not above using my name, my upbringing, clothes or whatever else it is needed to achieve that goal. Do you have a problem with that?"

Walking up to the other man, Ron stood in front of Draco. "No, I don't, but you could have just told me. I know what you think of my family, but I am a pureblood. I might not like these games, but I know they exist and I can play them when they are necessary. I'm not a child anymore, and I've learned that sometimes the end justifies the means. _Now_ , we can go."

They walked in silence outside of the Ministry and Apparated as soon as it was possible without being seen by Muggles. 

Malfoy manor was nothing like Ron expected. He had imagined dark rooms and ugly Potions ingredients, sharp objects and Dark Art artefacts. He should have learned long ago that Death Eaters didn't need darkness to torture you; they could do it just as well in a bright room with expensive furniture.

Expensive, that certainly applied to the house and its contents. Even with the enormous amount of people walking around the house, the quality and good taste of each piece was obvious. The house spoke of old money and good taste.

"Mr. Weasley, how do you do." A female voice greeted him and when he turned he saw the still beautiful Narcissa with a polite smile on her face.

"Narcissa Black Malfoy." She extended a hand toward him.

Ron had seen Draco's mother a few times, but the elegance this woman possessed was impressive. Even a simple handshake was an affirmation of her upbringing. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, but everyone calls me 'Ron'. It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam."

She smiled and cocked her head. "Draco says you work with him, and you're here to help. Forgive me if I'm not so easily convinced."

"Draco is anything but easily convinced, Mrs. Malfoy." Ron kept his smile on. No point in antagonising his hostess. However, Narcissa's words were very informative. Draco had said that they worked together. Another game to impress on the Slytherins - the notion that they were equal, that the Slytherins could trust Ron, and Ron was more than willing to play this particular game. 

"Look who's here. One of Arthur's boys. Another blood traitor," a voice whispered in Ron's ear.

Ron gritted his teeth when he heard the unmistakable voice of Lucius Malfoy. "Mr. Malfoy, how do you do," he said coldly.

"Good afternoon... Which one would you be?" Lucius inquired, as he took his wife's hand in his.

"That's Ronald, my Dear." It was Narcissa who answered and Ron could swear that there was something hidden in her sweet tone.

Lucius turned to Ron with a raised eyebrow. "You're the one that Draco saved."

"Yes, the one for whom he defied Voldemort. Fancy that?" It wasn't technically true. Ron knew that Draco's motives had been self-serving, but the little lie was worth to see the look on Lucius' face. "But then he wasn't the one following a Halfblood. I wonder who the blood traitor is?"

"That's enough." Draco's voice, cold and commanding, stopped the discussion. "You can insult each other later. There is work to be done. I'll start?" He looked at Ron and waited for confirmation before getting everyone's attention.

Ron walked through the Slytherins while Draco recounted, truthfully, but omitting some details, the events that had led to this meeting. He watched as the Slytherins listened carefully what was being said. As soon as Draco stopped, the questions began. The first of course was why they hadn't been told before.

"The families, in their distraught state, had not seen useful to mention the parchments until very recently," Draco answered.

Ron could see the mental translation being done: the families had withheld information from the Ministry in the hope of catching the bastard. Not that he could blame them. If anyone had hurt his family...

"Please, it's important that this stays among us. He's looking for publicity and fame. It's vital that no one but the people present know about these scrolls," Draco stressed for what Ron felt was the umpteenth time.

Someone snorted. "So why does he know?" the woman asked, pointing at Ron.

"He knew before you did and there have been no leaks. Mr. Weasley and I are working day and night on this, and you will have to trust us." Again Ron translated what Draco was saying: If anyone finds out, don't blame us. Moreover, we are all you got, so sod off.

"How do we know it's not one of us?" someone else asked.

Ron had seen the Slytherins discuss things to death and decided to speak up. "It's not a Slytherin."

He certainly didn't expect the reaction. Most of the people present seemed convinced that it was indeed a Slytherin. Lucius finally gave him the reason behind such a conviction. "We all use wards based on an ancient Slytherin spell. Only Slytherins know them."

Ron shrugged. "That means nothing. It could be a lover, a former friend. This man is no pureblood."

"Why should we believe you?" a woman shouted at him.

"When a Gryffindor says that a Slytherin didn't do it, he has very good reason to believe that," he answered, and was happy to see a few people crack a smile. "However, it means that he understands how your wards are built, which also means that you need to change them."

"Unfortunately, the Ministry won't let us use the good spells," an older gentleman said wistfully. "I wonder how many of those tricksters I could kill with some of the more... creative spells."

"What tricksters?" Ron asked. He decided not to point out that killing was illegal.

"The ones who think that it's exciting to break into Slytherins houses on a dare." A lady, dressed in Victorian clothes, gave him the answer. "We all are subject to them, but when we inform the Ministry, we're told that the Ministry does not have enough resources to deal with such minor problems."

Draco looked at Weasley. The Auror was obviously in the dark, but Draco wasn't surprised. The Ministry was very efficient when it wanted to keep things secret. "Mrs. Bletchley, we can't speak for the Ministry, but we have no objections if wards were modified to trap the intruders. We want to capture not kill. Only one of these intruders is a killer."

Ron didn't stay to listen to the objections raised. Malfoy could waste his time explaining to this people why killing was not an option. Instead, he went back to the office and continued casting unsuccessful spells on the parchment.

* * *

**PART 3 - Traditions Can Be Dangerous**

It was bright, but the sun didn't bother Draco, something quite rare for him. The warm rays bathed his naked body as he lay quietly. He shifted and the ground beneath him shifted as well.

Curious, yet not worried, he looked around. Sand, white sand was everywhere. Palm trees provided shade from the tropical sun. Then carefree laughter attracted his attention.

"Come in the water. It feels wonderful," Ron called out from a distance.

Draco squinted against the sun to focus on the other man. It was too far to see the tiny droplets of salty water sliding down Ron's powerful body. However, there they were, in Draco's plain sight.

"Stop being a prat, Malfoy." Ron ran toward Draco, cool water hitting the Slytherin's flushed body.

Ron lowered himself until his body blanketed Draco's. "You must learn to have fun. It shall be my new mission: to teach you to enjoy life." He kissed Draco, his tongue seeking and obtaining permission to taste his lover. Suddenly he pulled off. He forced Draco up and half dragged the blond toward the water.

"Stop it, Weasley. Stop this insanity this very instant. This must stop now....Weasley, no!" Draco screamed until Ron pushed him, his body hitting the cool water, and...

Draco woke up. His office was pitch black, just like always. He checked his watch: 5pm. Ron should be back soon.

He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. "I must be going mad. There is no other explanation. Utterly, completely, barking mad." The fact that he was talking to himself, was evidence enough, but dreaming about Weasley? But really who could blame him. For the past month, he had been living in his office. He had eaten, worked and slept there. With Weasley.

After that first night, there had been a second and a third, and then a fourth. They had yet to stop. They never discussed their nocturnal sexual activities, chalking it up to physical need. Of course, that didn't explain why they chose to spend the nights on a couch, albeit a very comfortable one, instead of going home, or why they would eat together and spend all their time in each other's company. Draco decided that it was in the name of efficiency, because it certainly had nothing to do with how they felt for each other.

Draco stood up and reached the trolley. When he heard the door open, he poured some brandy in two snifters. "What now?" he asked, tired. A month had passed since the meeting and each day, they received two or three calls from Slytherins. They had captured enough students, trying to break in on dares, that McGonagall was ready to cancel Hogsmeade trips.

"Two Gryffindors, one Hufflepuff, and one got away." Ron closed the door and sat on the couch.

"One got away?" Draco sat next to the Gryffindor and handed a glass. "Was it he?"

Ron accepted the snifter with a 'thank you' and a kiss. Only a few weeks ago, it would have been absurd to even picture this domesticity, but a few weeks ago they hadn't spent every moment of their day together. "I think so. The breach was inside a child's bedroom and it was too perfect, no magical signature, no student spells."

"Did you find anything that could lead us to him?" Draco saw Ron shake his head before taking a sip of the brandy. "This means we're back to square one. Nothing we do helps; all that we've been doing is for nothing."

"Look, I know you get to a case after everything is solved; you spend a few weeks presenting your case and that's that. This is different. It could take weeks, months. You need patience." Ron smiled when he heard Draco snort. "I know it's not one of the traits I'm known for, but I can be very patient when it comes to my work, and we are helping. No one else died."

Draco ran his fingers through his hair. "I deal with facts and evidence, not suspicions and lives. I hate this waiting around. There is nothing I can plan, nothing I can do." He looked up. "There is something. We need to inform people of the breach; change the wards again."

"Don't you worry about that. Mrs. Warrington knows your mother. Narcissa was there and she said, and I quote 'Please, tell my son that I shall inform everyone. Now, go find this Mudblood', end quote. For once, I didn't feel the urge to correct her." Ron took another sip of the brandy, before resting it on the coffee table. "That was the first call of the day. I feel certain that she has told everyone by now."

"All right, so what do we do now?" Draco's eyes went to the parchments, but he was starting to hate them. He had cast any spell he could think of, before turning to his father for ideas. Next he checked with professor Snape, and swallowing his pride even Granger, who was currently working for cataloguing and classifying ancient spells for the Ministry. None of the suggestions led to any new discovery.

"I am going home. It's Mum's birthday and if I don't go she'll kill me. In fact, why don't you accompany me?"

Draco almost spit his brandy, and only years of self-control prevented him from doing so. "Weasley, you must be mad. Why would I accompany you to your mother's birthday?" 

"Because we haven't left this office for two weeks, except to shower, put new clothes on or do something related to this case. Because if I leave you here, you'll spend the night in this office going over those scrolls again. Because you will go mad, if you don't stop." Ron crossed his arms in front of his chest, daring Draco to contradict him.

"Every moment we waste is another moment when a child could be killed," Draco answered stubbornly.

"Taking a break after days and days isn't wasting time, it's a necessity, Malfoy." Even as he said it, Ron could see that the Slytherin wasn't convinced, but he had learned that if you couldn't beat them, you could always join them. "Fine, then come with me, because it's the smart thing to do. You get a break and you can ensure that I don't dally around for too long."

Draco shook his head. Subtlety was unknown to Weasley, an esoteric concept beyond his grasp, but he appreciated the sentiment behind the attempt. "Fine, but only because I want to make sure you don't sit around doing nothing," 

"Fine! Let's go." Neither man pointed out that the other was smiling.

Of course, the arrival at the Burrow wasn't as simple. Draco watched fascinated and horrified at the same time. The house was crowded with redheads moving around with organized chaos. Voices rose over each other until they tangled together in a strange harmony. Then, one by one the voices died out until there was complete silence.

"You have a strange effect on people," Ron whispered in Draco's ear, but smiled at the other man.

"They are blinded by my perfection," Draco answered without missing a beat.

"Malfoy."

Draco closed his eyes and counted to ten and backwards, in English and Latin, then he smiled, a saccharine filled, purely diplomatic smile. "Potter, it's good..." His eyes travelled through the crowded room, luckily he saw the person for whom he was searching. 

His entire stance changed as he approached Molly Weasley, ignoring Potter. "Mrs. Weasley, I'm sorry to impose on you and your family. I wish you a very happy birthday."

"Arselicker," Ron whispered, but obviously not softly enough. His mother's outraged 'Ron' and Draco's affronted 'Weasley' told him so. 

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, eyes still on Malfoy and hand on his wand.

"I've been invited, just like you, unless you've suddenly turned into a Weasley," Draco answered innocently. "Do stop with that wand, Potter. Rest assured that Weasley made me promise not to kill anyone before we came."

"And he trusts you?" Harry retorted.

"Come on, Harry. He's doing it to annoy you; he wouldn't hurt anyone." Ron turned to the Slytherin. "You, behave."

"Enough, boys! Draco, right?" Mrs. Weasley smiled as the blond nodded. "Well, call me Molly. Now, let's sit down and eat." Her eyes flickered to her husband for a moment, Arthur's feelings on the Malfoys were well known in the family. "Ron, be a dear and set another plate for Draco," she continued, hoping that a sense of normality would dissipate the tension.

Seeing the confusion on Draco's face, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not everyone uses house-elves. Some of us believe that it's unfair to abuse them." She ignored the groans around her, as the people sat around the table. "Besides, you must be getting used to it now that the Ministry doesn't enslave house-elves anymore."

"He still has house-elves at his office," Ron said, a frown on his face.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione started, but she never had the chance to finish.

"He is not being ridiculous. While the Ministry does not employ house-elves any longer, my family still does, and I assure you that my house-elves have access to my office." Draco stopped and looked suspiciously at the plate Ron was passing to him. It took a moment before he understood that he was expected to serve himself and pass the plate to Fred - or was that George? - who was sitting next to him. "Granger, you don't truly expect all of us to do without house-elves. Now, _that_ is ridiculous."

Ron covered Draco's hand with his as he leaned and whispered, "Hermione is very sensitive to house-elves' rights." 

"Her name is Hermione and you'll treat my wife with respect," Fred, the twin sitting further away from Draco, said. 

"I don't believe I have said anything negative about her, unlike her comment to your brother," Draco answered with as much calm as he could muster. "I was merely pointing out that purebloods have different habits than Muggleborns. That is all."

"You aren't the only pureblood at this table, and yet, you're the only one who has house-elves." Harry stared at Draco, the challenge obvious in his voice and poster.

"Be that as it may, I doubt you could appreciate our traditions. After all, your mother was a Muggleborn and you were raised by Muggles, were you not?" Draco asked with feigned innocence.

"I'm more of a wizard than you'll ever be," Harry answered, his own fake smile plastered on his face. "Just ask that Halfblood Slytherin maniac you followed." 

Draco laughed. "You are so childish, Potter. Every discussion with you must revolve around Voldemort. He's dead. You should know since you killed him. Five years ago, and the world cheered you, but it's over now. It's time that you learn to accept it and move on."

"Could we stop discussing Voldemort? Please?" Ron looked between Harry and Draco, waiting for the two men to agree.

"It would have been easier to say that the Slytherins have different habits," Ginny said. "George, pass me the potatoes, please."

"Slytherins are purebloods." Draco passed the plate to George who handed it to Ginny.

"With one exception." Harry smirked.

"Nonsense, Harry. Slytherins are just like the rest of the purebloods: not pure." Arthur continued to eat until he felt all eyes on him. "What I mean is that we all have a Muggle or two in our bloodline. You just have to look hard enough and go back far enough."

"Or just look at the children born out of wedlock." Molly waved a hand when she heard the gasps from her children. "Just because they are Slytherins doesn't mean that they didn't cheat on their spouses or that they never had sex with Muggles."

"But the scandal? It would tarnish their reputation and we all know how much they value that," Bill put in.

"Not if no one knows about it." Charlie looked around the table. "Think about it. They have an affair with a Muggle and then they disappear. That woman knows nothing about them or our world."

George sniggered. "Unless they get that woman pregnant. Everything is fine until that child develops his powers."

Ginny looked at his brother. "You're laughing, but imagine how upset that child would be when he arrives at Hogwarts?"

Draco had barely listened to the conversation. Speculations about Slytherins made by Gryffindors did not interest him, but Ginny's comment caught his attention. "I wonder if he'd be angry enough to kill."

Silence reined once more until Ron exclaimed. "Sweet Helga and Rowena! We've been concentrating on Voldemort and any connection to him, but that's not it."

Draco nodded slowly. "We can't be sure, but maybe we were concentrating on the one element only. We always said that this was personal, that it was about revenge, maybe it's time we broaden our field of investigation."

"But how? I mean, what's the connection between these families and the killer?" Secrecy was momentarily forgotten in the excitement of a new lead after a month of failures. Besides, this was his family.

"What killer?" Molly asked, worried.

"Someone has been killing children, Slytherin children." Ron answered automatically, his mind still processing this new idea.

Draco glared at Ron, then his eyes travelled over the people sitting at the table. "No one knows about this, besides Shacklebolt, Tibbot, Ron and me, and now you. It's vital that this goes no further. We've been successful in stopping the murders, but four children were killed."

An uproar ensued, voices climbing over one another. "Shush!" Ron got up and banged his hand on the table. "Thank you." He nodded as his family quieted down. Then he turned to Draco. "What do we do now? We won't be able to find any records? It's not like the Ministry keeps tabs on cheating husbands."

"You want to know about Slytherin scandals, you speak with a well-to-do Slytherin society woman." Draco got up as well. "Thank you for the meal, but we must be going." He looked at Ron. "It's time to visit Malfoy manor. Shall we go?"

"Planning to lure him to your house and kill him?" Harry said through gritted teeth.

Draco closed his fingers into tight fists before relaxing. "No, Potter. First, I'm not stupid enough to commit murder in my own house. Secondly, if I wanted Weasley dead, he would have been, a long time ago."

Before anyone could say more, Ron put a hand on Draco's shoulder. The Gryffindor was under no illusion that Draco had saved his life for humanitarian reasons, but he was alive nonetheless - thanks to Draco. "I never thanked you for that." Ron leaned toward the other man, until their lips touched. "Thank you."

Draco blinked. "What are you doing?"

"I believe I'm thanking my boyfriend for saving my life." Ron felt Draco's muscles tense beneath his hand, and then relax again.

"Boyfriend?" Salazar's snake, Weasley had finally rendered him speechless.

"We work together, we eat together, and we sleep together. To me, it means that we are together." Ron shrugged. "Unless I'm totally wrong, in which case you can just tell me."

Draco looked around the room. Everyone's eyes were on him, but he ignored them thanks to years of practice. He looked at Ron again. "Let's go have dessert with my parents. We can work at the same time."

Ron smiled. This was as much of an acknowledgement as he was likely to get. He put a hand behind Draco's back and led him to the fireplace. "Let's Floo out together."

Draco snorted. "You're such a romantic, Weasley." Then they left the Burrow.

* * *

"Boyfriend?" Draco asked as they appeared at Malfoy manor

"You're still on about that! I thought we resolved this at my house." Ron knew very well that they had done no such thing. He had put Draco on the spot and the blond had responded predictably: with class and poise. On the other hand, Ron had been aware that had he waited for Draco to acknowledge their relationship, sexual or more, then they would have needed the sorcerer's stone, because it would certainly have not happened in their lifetime.

"Resolved? You announced to a room full of Gryffindors that we're together. That is far from reaching a resolution. In fact, one could opine that having Gryffindors involved in one's private affair was a problem in and of itself," Draco said wryly.

Ron stopped in the middle of the hallway. He grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him close. "Stop the childish games and name calling for a moment. I want to be with you. The fact that you're a Slytherin and a Malfoy is relevant in so far that it makes you who you are. I'm not asking for promises or eternal love, but I want to know if this will be something more than sex."

It would have been so easy to cut Ron down to size, easy to protect himself from being hurt, from exposing himself, easy and not what Draco wanted. "I shall not change. I will not suddenly like Potter and Muggleborn. If that is acceptable then we're together."

"If you suddenly like Harry, I'll check to ascertain that you are not possessed by some evil maniac." Ron bumped his forehead against Draco's. "Your conditions are acceptable."

"Good, then we have an accord." Draco gave his lover a gentle kiss. "Shall we speak to Mother now or do we need to discuss something else?"

"Only you can make a relationship sound like a business arrangement." Ron chuckled as he followed Draco into the dining room.

* * *

"Darling, look who is here." Narcissa pre-emptively stopped any negative comment from her husband. "Sit with us and have some blood pudding." No sooner did she speak that four servings appeared on the table.

Ron bit his lip to stop from laughing. He could just imagine Harry's reaction. Instead, he thanked Narcissa and sat down. "Mr. Malfoy, how are you?"

Lucius studied the boy before he sipped his coffee. "I was better before your arrival. What is it so urgent that you needed to interrupt our dinner, Draco?"

"I was hoping for Mother's help." Draco stood behind Ron's chair, a hand resting on the backrest. "Mrs. Weasley was talking about Half-bloods born from Slytherins..." 

"Nonsense!" Lucius cut his son off with a wave of his hand. "Slytherins do not have sex with Muggles." The word was spit out like the mere utterance would inflict some sort of disease.

"That is not actually accurate, Darling. Not everyone has your standards when cheating on his spouse, Lucius." 

Ron looked around, well aware that Narcissa's sweet tone hid dangerous threats and old problems. He was also certain that Draco wanted to listen to this even less than he did. "We were interested in the families of those children, five if you count the Warringtons. Do you know anything about them?" 

"Now that you ask..." Narcissa paused, trying to recall rumours pushed away in favour of more recent ones. "Lorelei's grandfather was said to have had a child with a Muggle. The boy was never recognized, but Charles paid for his education."

"He went to Beauxbatons. That hardly counts as education," Lucius said dismissively.

"How queer that you are above gossip, yet recall every single one of them!" Narcissa smiled at her husband. 

Lucius smiled back. His wife could be as poisonous as an asp and he loved her for that reason. "Didn't old Sebastian Warrington have a child in his youth? I remember Father discussing it when I was a child. Quite the scandal, I remember because he wanted to recognize the child. His father put a stop to that quickly. I believe he killed the pregnant woman."

"No, Lucius, Sebastian had the child, a girl. It was Valerian Bulstrode who killed the mother of his grandchild. I'm not sure if it was before or after the baby was born," Narcissa said calmly.

Ron was shocked at how calmly the couple could discuss murders while having coffee and dessert. He looked at Draco, but the blond seemed unaffected, and Ron imagined his lover sitting at a table as a child listening to similar discussions. No wonder Draco had been a bastard in school.

Draco felt Ron's gaze on him. He looked down and smiled, before turning to his mother again. "What about the other two? Any illegitimate children there?" 

"Adrian's great-great-great uncle had a daughter from a Muggle, if I remember correctly," Narcissa answered.

"Yes, she's the one who was killed by Grindelwald at Claudius' behest. Father always said that it was a waste since she was such a good witch." Lucius sipped on his coffee. "He was probably shagging her since he never said anything good about someone who was not a pureblood."

"Lucius, your father would 'shag' anything that moved. He believed it to be his right as a Malfoy. The only reason your mother never cursed him it's because she was doing the same." Narcissa looked at her guest. "You're not eating. Is it not to your taste? I can have the house-elves bring you something else."

"No, thank you, Narcissa. This is just fine." Ron took a spoonful of pudding, but his mind was on the new information they had. "Does any Slytherin not have an illegitimate child?"

Narcissa laughed. "It's actually not as common as it sounds. We're discussing four families among many Slytherin families, and some of these facts occurred fifty, sixty years ago. No, Ron, it's not common, if only because our husbands know that they could be easily poisoned if caught."

"There hasn't been any talk about any Half-bloods for a few years, especially with Voldemort's return. I believe the last was..." As hard as he thought, he couldn't remember the name.

"That Ravenclaw, remember he was still at Hogwarts when Draco started. It was the reason you wanted to send him to Durmstrang." Narcissa wiped her mouth, before telling the story. "Marcellus Dolohov came from, well from a family of Death Eaters, but he was never involved with Voldemort."

"His wife, Evelyn, suffered for his... lack of conviction. She was cursed, and she began to deteriorate. She became paralysed, her health deteriorated for years, decades, and she passed away a few years ago. 

"Anyway, Marcellus had a mistress for years. It was common knowledge that she was a Muggle. Everyone knew when she got pregnant. Marcellus left her then, because he didn't want to hurt Evelyn more than she had been. However, he did support the child. I can't remember his name, but he went to Hogwarts and was sorted into Ravenclaw.

"When Evelyn died, Marcellus finally recognized his son, but the boy wanted nothing to do with him or the wizarding world. Suddenly, the boy returned less than a year ago and moved in with Marcellus. When Marcellus died a few months ago, he inherited everything."

"Was he here for the meeting?" Draco asked.

"He is not a Slytherin," Lucius replied as if that were a sufficient answer and in his mind, it was. "I still say that he killed Marcellus."

"Lucius, the Mediwitch said that it was natural death," Narcissa answered.

When Lucius snorted, Draco focused on his father. Lucius was arrogant and ambitious, but he was not stupid, and he was very perceptive. "What makes you say that, Father?"

"The boy, Stuart I think, is some sort of Muggle Potion maker, an alchemist. Marcellus was as healthy as a dragon, then his son moves in and his health deteriorates. In a few months, he is dead." Lucius smirked. "Maybe the boy should have been a Slytherin."

"A pharmacist or something of the sort," Ron mused. "He could have used Muggle poisons to kill his father. The Mediwitch would only have looked for magical causes of death. Then he goes after other Slytherins."

"But why kill the children? Why not the parents?" Narcissa inquired.

"Because the children had all the privileges he didn't." Ron knew very well what it felt like having less than others. "Because their deaths would hurt the parents, just like he wanted to hurt his own father. Cor, we have the killer."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but we need to prove it. I doubt we can use Mother's knowledge of Slytherins' dirty laundry as the basis for a trial." Draco kissed his mother's cheek. "Thank you for your help. Father." He turned to Ron. "Ready to go?"

Ron nodded and stood up. "Narcissa, Mr. Malfoy, it was nice seeing you."

Lucius rubbed the snakehead that adorned his cane, fighting the urge to hex the boy. "I can't say the same. This is the second time in a month that you are here. Please, try not to let this become a habit, Mr. Weasley."

"Sorry, Father, but I don't think that's possible," Draco replied.

"Why is that, Draco?" Lucius glared at his son.

"Because you see, he is my boyfriend. Have a good night." With a hand behind Ron's back, he ushered his lover out.

"Are you barking mad? That's how you tell your father? He was holding his wand, for Gryffindor's sake." Ron shook his head, worried and surprised.

Draco smirked. "As I told Potter, a Malfoy would never kill someone in his own house. We were safer telling him here than somewhere else."

Ron chuckled. "You are crazy; your entire family is mad, and I must be too because I still want to be with you."

"That's so sweet, Weasley. Do you think you can wait for the love declaration until we arrest this killer?"

"I don't know, but I can promise to try." Ron's hand found Draco's as they walked to the Apparating chamber.

* * *

**PART 4 - Apart But Together**

It was bright, but the sun didn't bother Draco. The warmth he felt had little to do with the hot rays and a lot to do with the sweaty body above him. He looked at his lover as Ron slid in and out, their desire spiralling to new heights. Draco felt his lover spill inside him, his balls contracted, and...

Draco sat up, sweat covering his body. Salazar's balls, he was becoming a teenager again. Maybe if Ron spent less time hunting after Stuart, then he wouldn't have so many dreams. Getting up, he went to the trolley and filled his glass with water, spelling it cold.

It looked like another night of waiting, not that in his office the time of day made any difference. For the past three weeks, Ron had followed and investigated their suspect. Additional Aurors had been assigned to the case to be certain that there would be at least two Aurors following Stuart.

Draco had offered to go with Ron, and had been turned down. Then he had ordered to be included, but Ron had simply snorted at him. Draco had resorted to blackmail, threats, and bribes in mixed order, but to no avail.

He still remembered the conversation as if it were yesterday.

"No, you can't come with me and it's final." Ron had crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You're not trained and you could get hurt."

Draco had seen red at that moment. How dare anyone question his abilities! "I know how to defend myself. I know more Dark spells than most people. I've duelled with Potter, and isn't he the greatest wizard alive?" he said sarcastically

"This isn't school, and we're not in third year. I don't care what you know; I won't have an untrained man on the field."

Draco had turned around, but not after pouting shamelessly. "You don't trust me."

Ron had rolled his eyes. "You're such a drama queen. Of course, I trust you." He had approached his lover, pressing his body against Draco's. "I trust you and I care for you, but I'll spend my time worrying about you. That could be dangerous for both of us."

"I can take care of myself," Draco had replied stubbornly.

"I know you do, but I still worry." Ron had held a little bit tighter, resting his chin on Draco's shoulder. "You know when we were in school you accused me of always trying to prove myself, well, you were right. I had brothers who were Head boys and Captain of the Quidditch team, even the twins were loved by everyone.

"With Harry around, I was relegated to the role of supporting best friend. Then I found this job. It's something I love and something I do well. I'm one of the youngest Aurors and people think that I get the important assignments because Shacklebolt knows my family, but the truth is that I work the extra hours and I am good at what I do. Don't take this away from me."

Draco had turned his head. "Merlin, Weasley, does that crap work on other Gryffindors?"

"All the time." Ron had grinned. "Does it work on you?"

"Are you kidding?" Draco sniggered. "I knew what you were doing when you said that I was right. You'd never admit that unless you wanted something." He sighed, and squeezed Ron's hand. "All right, you go do your job, but if you get hurt because there is no one capable to help you out, I'm going to Crucio you and whoever is your backup. Deal?"

"Deal."

So had started the investigation. Draco stayed in the office, tracking down any information about Marcellus, his son, his estate and his will. He spoke to people who knew the man, but no one seemed to know much about Stuart. The Ravenclaw stayed by himself, didn't seem to like Slytherins much, but he was not rude or insulting.

Ron would go out, often doing twelve-hour shifts, not because they didn't have the resources, but because he wanted to be there in case something happened. Except it never did, or if it did, he refused to share it with Draco, and for the past three weeks, they had collected irritation and fatigue.

"Did you decide to send someone else?" Draco said when he heard the door open. When he looked up, he saw the ashen face staring back at him. "Good Slytherin, what happened?" He stood up and reached for his lover. "Are you all right?"

"I'll have whatever you're having," Ron replied.

Draco looked at the glass. "It's water. Come, sit down." He led Ron to the couch before filling a shot of firewhiskey. He watched as Ron swallowed the amber liquid. "Now, tell me what is happening?"

"He's dead," Ron whispered, looking at the empty glass. He looked up, uncaring if Draco could see the hurt in his eyes. "He's dead," he repeated louder.

Draco sat down. He tried to approach the subject tactfully. Ron was obviously upset, but he couldn't see the problem. He was ready to throw a party for the bastard's death. "Did someone get hurt?" he ventured.

Ron shook his head. "He Apparated to Mr. Wilks' house, like we suspected he would. They had cast the old wards, the ones he could disarm." He spoke slowly, in a cold voice, devoid of any emotions. "When he arrived there, he didn't find the baby, but us..."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," Draco started affronted, but when he saw the pain in Ron's face, he stopped. His fingers raked Ron's hair before cupping his lover's head. "He found you and what happened next?"

"Nothing. We put new wards up so he couldn't Apparate away. He didn't even try; he surrendered his wand." The glass hit the coffee table before Ron sprang up. "Sod it! It was too simple; I should have known better."

Draco lost his patience, and blurted out, "For the love of all that it's magical, what happened?" 

"He killed himself. I was standing behind him. There were two Aurors at each side. Then the noise and the blood..." Ron shivered, his hand moving over his face. "I can still feel it warm, on my cheeks. He used a Muggle gun, right in his mouth. I had blood and his flesh...I've seen people die, I was tortured by Death Eaters, but this was so... so violent."

He tried hard to keep his emotions in check, but when he felt Draco's arms close around him, he couldn't anymore. Silent sobs shook his body as his lover spoke to him in his calm, no nonsensical voice. "Obliviate me. Please, I can't... "

"Stop that nonsense, Weasley." Draco tilted Ron's head and glared at his lover. "You know that the Ministry will do an inquiry on Dolohov's death. You will remember and you will testify. You will tell them why your fellow Aurors didn't stop him and why it is most certainly not your fault. You will not speak to anyone, from any office, without a counsel present, and that means me. Understood?"

"How can you even think..." 

"I'm not kidding, Weasley. You will not say a word." Stupid, stupid Gryffindor! Ron couldn't see past what had just happened, but Draco knew that political motivations and the secrecy around the investigation would have repercussion at the Ministry. He kissed his lover gently. "Please, promise me. Give me your word as a Gryffindor that you will ask for me before making any reports or speaking to anyone."

The silence and tension could be cut with a knife, but then Ron sighed and nodded. "All right, I promise you."

In the end, it was the wisest promise Ron had made. They were questioned numerous times, investigated for negligence, and generally pushed to a corner by the higher ups. It was much easier to proclaim to the world that a few Aurors had decided to keep the truth from the public.

Ironically, Ron found the most support from the Slytherins, who testified on his behalf time and time again, affirming that they had been informed of the danger and at no time had the truth been kept from them.

After months, the inquest was closed, finding that Ron had committed no wrongdoing, however, he couldn't help feeling like a stranger in his own office. The Slytherin support, his relationship with Draco and his friendship with Slytherins made him an outcast in the Aurors office. Considering the atmosphere around him, he certainly didn't expect Shacklebolt's call.

Ron knocked on his boss' door and stepped in. He froze when he saw Draco sitting there. "What are you doing here?"

"Always good to see you, too, Weasley." Draco stared at Shacklebolt. "Is all the paperwork in order?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded. "Ron, the MPS has been authorised to have Aurors work for them. You would still be under our jurisdiction, but you will be working with the prosecutors to investigate more troublesome cases. Mr. Malfoy has requested that you work with him, however, it is your decision."

Jumping for joy and singing was not the proper response, but it was tempting. At this point, working with Percy would have been better than staying here. "Do I keep that office?"

Draco smiled. "Not that you used it, but yes, you do."

"And you will make your office brighter, at least for an hour or two a day? You know to remind us that there are nights _and_ days," Ron pushed on.

Draco nodded. "One hour plus when I'm not there, and you can use the Malfoy house-elves for food." He raised his eyebrow. "Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal, Malfoy."

* * *

**PART 5 – Epilogue**

Ron stood in front of the door of Draco's office. "We must go."

"Who died now?" Draco asked wryly.

"Guard at Azkaban. Mediwitch can't find a cause," Ron replied. 

"We wouldn't be so lucky that the Dementors came back. At least we could close the case easily." Draco couldn't stop the smiling at Ron's annoyed expression. With a sigh, he stood up from behind his desk. "Why do we get stuck with these cases?"

"Because we're the best team?" Ron grinned as he watched Draco smirk back.

"We are certainly not a team. You work for me." Draco smoothed Ron's robe. "There is one positive element about you working under MPS jurisdiction: you stopped wearing those bloody awful Muggle clothes."

"Here I thought that the positive thing was being on top... at least of one of its prosecutors." Ron leaned forward and kissed the Slytherin. "You look absolutely spiffy, Mr. Malfoy."

"I have an engagement party to go after work, Mr. Weasley." Draco began walking toward the elevator. "You'd think that they stop gaping like fish after seeing us together for four years," he drawled out, sending looks of contempt to his co-workers.

"They are gaping because you take their breath away." Ron continued walking side-byside, knowing how much Draco hated public displays, but he couldn't help brushing the back of his hand against his lover's. "Do you think we can use this case as an excuse to escape the party?"

"Lying, Weasley? I'm so very proud of you, unfortunately..." Draco stepped inside the elevator that brought them to the foyer of the Ministry building. "Your mother married off six children already, but Mother..." He shivered at the thought. "If we do not attend our own engagement party, Mother will make Voldemort look like an amateur."

"Having met both, I'll have to concur with you. Your mother is much more dangerous than Voldemort ever was." When they stepped inside the phone booth that would bring them to street level, Ron moved closer to Draco until there was no room between them. 

"You do remember that this booth can magically and comfortably fit both of us, do you not?" Draco asked, stepping just a tad closer.

"Yes, I do, Malfoy, but in my professional view, this is perfectly acceptable."

"In that case, who am I to contradict the empirical evidence analysed by an Auror?"

Ron laughed. "You are a Malfoy. You were born to contradict everything and everyone."

Draco raised his eyes. "Weasley, you should know better than that." With his hands behind Ron's back, he pulled his fiance closer. "I'm a Malfoy. I always trust my family, and you are my family."


End file.
